"I can say no more. Grief chokes me; and I can only repeat that your fate shall be mine; being, my dear brother, your
"Wilhelmina."
The day following she writes to Voltaire:—
"16th October, 1757.
"Overwhelmed by sufferings of mind and body, I am able only to write a little letter. You will find one enclosed herewith which will reward you a hundred-fold for my brevity. Our situation is always the same. A grave is the extent of our view. Although everything seems lost, things remain to us which cannot be taken away; they are fortitude and the sentiments of the heart. Be persuaded of our gratitude, and of all the sentiments which you deserve by your attachment and way of thinking, worthy of a true philosopher.
"Wilhelmina."
The following letter from Frederick crossed the previous one from his sister:—
"Eilenburg, 17th October, 1757.
"My Dearest Sister,—What is the good of philosophy unless we employ it in the disagreeable moments of life? It is then, my dear sister, that courage and firmness avail us.
"I am now in motion; and having once got into that, you may calculate I shall not think of sitting down again, except under improved omens. If outrage irritates even cowards, what will it do to hearts that have courage?